


why dont you kill the conversation, jane austen

by cheble_king



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:01:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21688786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheble_king/pseuds/cheble_king
Summary: Shepard's always found literary works to be her greatest ally in expressing her emotions.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

####  **"She was one of those, who, having once begun, would always be in love."**

Shepard's wandering eyes oft caught on the form of the turian, admiring his spurs and crest - or so some would say, for her ogling was mostly done by the way of covert glances, and by secondary chances wherein the crew was (mostly) distracted. This worked in her favor, as the distractions would come often and loudly, whether in the form of Joker and EDI laughing as they piloted the Normandy, or Tali'Zorah's most recent combat drone getting loose and wreaking havic in the mess area.

And yet there was always Garrus, stalwart and prepared for the worst, consistent in his behaviours, his responses - he ate the same thing at the same time every day, allowing for moments of quiet observation on Shepard's part, much to her delight.

This was one of those quiet days, as they passed from relay to relay on their way to the Citadel, shore leave long overdue in the eyes of the amassed crew: even Shepard herself was persuaded to take some time off upon reaching the intergalactic hub.

Her fingers tap idly on the cold metal of the mess hall table, eyes skimming over bolded text on her datapad - hungry, devouring. Her voracious appetite for all things literary was akin to an addiction, save for the fact none of her crew would confront her about it, lest they be regaled by the 'exquisiteness of Sir Henry Thoreau's work' for the next half hour of their life.

"Shepard," Garrus's multi-faceted voice breaks her from her stalwart concentration, and Shepard looks up with a soft smile as he inclines his head, setting a tray on the table with a soft screech of plasteel against tempered metal, "This seat taken?"

"If it were, then the previous occupant must be long gone - is it noon already?"

"Just about. You've been down here for, what, close to three hours?"

Shepard grimaces in embarrassment, looking away from his wry smile with a look of sheepish acceptance, "I was reading."

"I can tell. Any time we go to a station, you always get a book, and then you'll get... oh, I don't know, absorbed by it? Yeah, absorbed for the next week or so."

He waves his talons in a gesture of nonchalance, but his shoulders are quivering from the effort of not laughing at her distress - it is palpable, a curl of tense shame shivering up her spine and making her face flush red hot.

"Not my fault, Omega finally got Jane Austen in."

"Jane Austen? Moving on from dear Henry so soon?"

"Shut up, Jane's a good author."

He makes a noncommital noise of slight agreement, sipping at his dextro-based smoothie, chitinous plates moving in an approximation of a furrowed brow, "What makes you like them so much?"

"Hard to say. The language, probably."

"I see."

The conversation dies, and she is back to watching him, the way his exoskeleton-esque physique shifts and moves with his breathing, the way he curses like a drunken quarian when one of his spurs catches on the table, the way the thulium infused carapace catches the neon fluorescents of the mess - she is staring, and he is confused, and then her heart is in her throat as she stammers out an apology, ducking her head and scurrying from the room before he can get a word out edgewise.


	2. Chapter 2

#### “It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy;–it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others.”

"I'm glad you're not dead."

"Dead again, you mean?"

The smile cracks through her voice, and Garrus clicks his tongue in distaste - his features are pinched with worry, body tense and taught as he struggles to process the emotions flying through him.

"Don't joke - I'm glad you're not dead, Shepard."

His eyes catch the light in such a way that Shepard wants to soliloquize about them, wants to reach for the hard shell of his face and draw it down to meet her lips - she will do none of those things, because he is Garrus, and his friendship is too dear to her to risk losing.

"I am too."

"Don't do that again, got it?"

"I won't."

His ire is palpable, thrumming through the air in the thick bass of his subharmonics, loud enough that Shepard can feel it in her stomach - or maybe she just feels the ache of Dr. Chakwas medicine, sewing together a bullet hole that had pierced her flesh and flown right through her liver, stomach, and out the other side.

"You _can't."_

"I promise, Garrus."

Her words fall flat, for they both know she wouldn't hesitate to jump infront of him again, wouldn't hesitate to take another bullet for him - wouldn't hesitate to die for him, for that one turian on the Normandy, Garrus Vakarian.

"What were you -" He cuts himself off abruptly, standing and pacing through the cramped quarters of the medbay, "What were you even thinking? The vorcha don't give a damn who they're shooting, and my armor -"

Another pause, and she waits - she will always wait for him, no matter the circumstances. She has waited far longer, for far more petty things: waiting for him to finish his sandwich in quiet solitude, waited with bated breath at his bedside after his injury on Omega, waited to be able to touch his arm so casually, like she does now.

"You could've _died."_

"We both know you wouldn't let me."

He shakes his head, as if to protest, but they both know the truth - neither of them were complete without the other, and following the original Normandy's destruction two years prior, they'd only grown closer.

For there was no Shepard without Vakarian, after all.


End file.
